The Journey

Now that it is over….

 Didnt see that C section coming.  I had such a great start to the day and was in the best of moods…this was going to be a great day.

Then I found myself looking into the eyes of my anesthisiologist, in an operating room about to have major surgery.

Recovery was painful, but with enough pain medication, I found out that you look at life a whole lot differantly.

I couldnt wait to hold baby Cole in my arms, to see his face, to meet the one who had grown with me for the last 9 months…..

He was so precious that I was almost sorry for all of the nasty ” stop kicking me” comments.

I got to play the “Mommy” role for 2 whole days and it felt great…..this is what I had wanted, and I knew the parents where so happy and couldnt wait to take him home.

I have to give my husband all the kudos in the world for being so great, so understanding.  He has taken care of not only me and was by myside the whole way through but to add house and home on top of it…is just amazing to me.


Familys of surrogates, take care of the husband too. They work just as hard and are probably looked over for all of thier support, errand running, emotional support and general keeping everything together all the while watching thier wives go through pain and agony.

I can never repay my husband for what he has gone through with me but I will have the rest of my life to keep trying. 

So here we were late Wednesday morning, Michelle settled in at the hospital, ready for a pretty long siege/labor process lasting well into the night.

I was planning on getting at least 7 or 8 new entries onto describing the whole process. In fact I was doing a little preemptive internet research trying to find sound byte files of famous actress screams in film/tv. You know….so I could provide some frame of reference for the noises I was expecting to last until Midnight or so.

Michelle’s doctor comes into the room and arranges for a quick ultrasound check, and I took a few moments to stretch my legs in the hallway.

When I strolled back in five minutes later, everything had changed. A flurry of five nurses were working all over Michelle. Doctors were running in and out of the room.

“Have they told you,” cried Michelle, eyes wide in shock?

“Told me what?, I asked.”


The ultrasound showed the kid’s head was jammed right up against the umbilical cord. During a long labor he would squeeze it down even further. It really WAS go time, technically an emergency C-Section although neither Michelle nor the kid were in danger at that moment.

But I guess they only have one speed when the order comes down from the doctor. 

One of the nurses threw me a package of scrubs and said, “Dad, put ‘em on….we’re going over to the operating room right now.”

Now there were two big problems with that nurse’s statement:

  1. I  was not the Dad. I have made that painfully obvious through the previous 94 entries of my blog.
  2. Me in operating room, around skin shredding scalpels and blood would create an entirely different medical issue. Operating table for two, please?

However when it was known that Michelle would have a general anesthetic, that ruled me out of being another casualty of squeamishness in the operating room. One crisis averted.

But then another loomed: the intended parents hadn’t even arrived at the hospital! Michelle had called them at 5 a.m. when we were on the way to the hospital, but told them it was going to be hours and hours of waiting. No rush. Take your time. Driving in from north Jersey, they wouldn’t arrive until noon or so.

So as Michelle was being quickly prepped and rushed to the operating room, I quickly dialed them on my cell phone to give them the news. Before I had a chance to say hello, one of the mom’s said: “We’re here. In the elevator”.

“Get in here fast. She’s having a C-section right now!”

……………… I’ll save the next hour of details for another time…………………………..

As they say, best laid plans and all that. But the outcome was the same. And just what we hoped for.

Cole Lewis Martino came into  the world at 12:03, about 20 minutes after that seemingly routine ultrasound check. Born with 10 little fingers, same amount of toes. Absolutely perfect condition.

Michelle’s doing great, after a pretty bad 90 minutes following the surgery because the post procedure pain management was woefully slow.  

As for me, I suffered a really annoying paper cut Thursday morning while reading the newspaper in M’s hospital room but I’m told I’ll make a full recovery.

And I’m kind of disappointed I didn’t get to use some of those movie sound bytes on the blog to provide a vivid description of the big event…..

That eviction notice did the trick.

Or maybe the threat of hooking a speaker up to Michelle’s belly and blasting Wayne Newton music 24/7…….

Whatever it was….it’s worked.

Baby is on the way. No doubt about it. Michelle is at St. Mary’s Medical Center at Langhorne, PA, all hooked to tubes, wires, monitors. Rested and ready. Looking forward to her first of many epidurals.

And I’m doing fine too. Thanks for asking.

 Stay tuned.

In my last post — a message to the child-to-be — I asked….

No, urged him… Strongly urged.

No, that’s not right. I flat out DEMANDED that he get the hell out of Dodge. Or whatever we’re calling Michelle’s belly these days.

It had no effect. The round mound remains.

And as the days go by, my eternally cheerful, glass-half-full, happy go lucky Michelle has transformed into… Well, I think the picture below spells it out:

So I’m appealing to my readers — both of you — for ideas. How do we move things along?

One of my co-workers suggested some good spicy Pineapple salsa.

I thought maybe placing a speaker on her stomach and blasting some Wayne Newton songs might encourage him to leave.

I’m also guessing that going horseback riding is out of the question. (Poor horse).

Ideas, anyone?

Dear Large Rib Kicking Being Inside Of My Wife,

Look kid: don’t take this personally but: It’s 37 weeks now, so……..

Get. Out.

It’s all over. Finished.

Scram! Hit the road! Take a hike (crawl)!

You’re done, son. Cooked. Baked. Ripe.

The checkered flag is waving. The final buzzer has sounded.

The Fat Lady has sung.. (ah, sorry that wasn’t about you, Michelle).

There is absolutely no reason why you aren’t out here with the rest of us, breathing, eating, pooping, trying to get a job, paying taxes and complaining about Congress.

You have officially overstayed your welcome. Consider this your eviction notice.


The Guy Who Is Not Your Father But Is Married To The Vessel You Are Residing In.

Sent to my co-workers today:

Our 9-month long adventure is just about over. Thank goodness, too, because this devil spawn kid is on the verge of overstaying his welcome. Given the 24/7 demolition derby going on inside Michelle,  I predict his future career choice will be:

A)     Blacksmith

B)      NASCAR driver that likes to swap paint

C)      Crash test dummy

D)     Philly fan who enjoys running onto the field during a game

 So this is a heads up that I’ll be tethered to my cell phone, on alert for the ‘It’s go time’ call. When you hear my new ringtone of the song ‘Having my Baby’, well you’ll know what’s up.

 (Hey: Can I get that song at CD Baby?)

 This afternoon I’m out around 2:15. Going to watch her Doc do one of these amazing 3-D ultrasounds. I understand you can see every nook/cranny/detail of the child-to-be, including his preference for boxers or briefs, Coke or Pepsi, and future political leanings.

No way. No way in hell that Michelle goes another month before this baby pops out.

I mean, cmon…take a look at her:

 She’s READY!

Alright, that’s not really Michelle. We’ll be shooting some pics this weekend to remember this special period in her life…and mine. And I’ll be making my typical rude comments about needing a wide angle lens to get it all in.

But we’re finally at the point where the end is in sight. It could really happen at any moment. Michelle has a small overnight bag packed and sitting by the door, ready to go at a moment’s notice. I’m carrying around my cellphone with me everywhere at work because I’ll never know when ‘the call’ is coming. And that would be a first.

I wonder if we’ll actually get to live out that traditional “rush her to the hospital because she’s in labor’ thing. As you know, we’ve traveled down this road before. Twice in fact. But in both cases, our girls had to be…well, encouraged….to join us in this world.

It’s no exaggeration to say that Michelle was 10 months pregnant with our first child, Emma. She was three weeks overdue when her doctor finally said we needed to induce her. THREE WEEKS! Emma was practically walking and talking when she was born.

With Sara it wasn’t quite as drawn out. In fact Michelle still thinks her doctor got the dates mixed up and actually had her induced a week early. But there we were again, with a date and time scheduled for her birth.

Will this time be different? Will I get the panicked call from Michelle, telling me her water broke in the middle of Lowes and I need to come rescue her?  Or maybe it will be in the middle of the night when this little boy decides he’s tired of using Michelle’s kidney for a punching bag, and he’s ready to join the human race.

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